VariousmanuscriptpageslaybeforemeandthegreatMasterOsman—somewithcalligraphedtextsaobebound,somecoloredorotherwiseunfinishedforwhateverreason—aswespeireafternoonevaluatierminiaturistsandthepagesofmyEnishte’sbook,keepingchartsofourassessments.Wethoughtwe’dseeoftheander’srespectfulbutcrudemen,whhtusthepagescollectedfromtheminiaturistsandcalligrapherswhosehomestheyraidedandsearched(somepieceshadnothingwhatsoevertodowitheitherofourtwobooksandsomepagesfirmedthatthecalligraphers,aswell,weresecretlyacceptingworkfromoutsidethepalaceforthesakeofafewextras),whebrashofthemsteppedovertotheexaltedmasterandremovedapieceofpaperfromhissash.

    Ipaidnomindatfirst,thinkingitwasohosepetitionsfromafatherseekinganapprenticeshipforhissonbyapproagasmanydivisionheadsandgroupcaptainsaspossible.Icouldtellthatthemsunhadvahepalelightthatfilterediorestmyeyes,IwasdoinganexercisetheoldmastersofShirazreendedminiaturistsdotostaveoffprematureblihatis,Iwastryingtolookemptilyintothedistahoutfog.That’swhenIreizedwithathrillthesweetcolora-stoppingfoldsofthepaperwhichmymasterheldandstaredatressionofdisbelief.ThismatchedexactlythelettersthatShekurehadsentmeviaEsther.Iwasabouttosay,“Whatace”likeanidiot,whenInoticedthat,likeShekure’sfirstletter,itwasapaniedbyapaintingoncoarsepaper!

    MasterOsmahepaintingtohimself.HehaheletterthatIjustthenembarrassinglyrealizedwasfromShekure.

    MyDearHusbandBlack.IsehertosoundoutlateElegantEffendi’swidow,Kalbiye.Whilethere,KalbiyeshowedEstherthisillustratedpage,whichI